


Lick It

by LiinHaglund



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: All aboard the express train to hell, Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe, Bestiality, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon? What Canon?, Canonical Character Death, Cunnilingus, Daddy Issues, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Knotting, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Non-Consensual, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Painful Sex, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Scott is a Bad Friend, Size Kink, Supernatural Elements, The Alpha Pack, Under-negotiated Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4977850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiinHaglund/pseuds/LiinHaglund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The deeply disturbing tale of how Stiles ends up as an Alpha.</p><p>She's not a push-over, but she never liked her odds against Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags. 'Cause if you don't you have no right to whine.
> 
> There will be some non-con later on, which evolves into dub-con, so continue at own risk. I don't think it's going to traumatize anyone looking for porn, but you never know what delicate souls are confused into thinking the Explicit rating is just there for detailed porn. Not, say, things that give children nightmares.
> 
> Also, there's plot.

At first Peter thinks Stiles is a boy. She dresses like a boy, she's thin and flat, she has short boyish hair, she talks too damned much and way too loudly and to top it off she's reckless the way teenage boys normally are. What gives her away is the pitch of her voice, which makes it obvious that it belongs to a girl, and her scent. Once he manages to catch it. There's a lot of scents out in the real world compared to his dull hospital room.

The face, Peter decides, could belong to either gender. There's nothing too special about her face, she's no doll, but she's kind of pretty in her own way. He wouldn't care at all about her if it wasn't for the fact that he's checking up on the boy he stupidly bit. A dimwitted loser called Scott apparently, and where he goes Stiles follows. Or if it's vice versa, it's hard to tell with how they're basically attached at the hip like Siamese twins.

It has been a crazily chaotic night for Peter. He killed Laura and then bit the human boy. That much he remembers semi-clearly, but the motives were oddly missing from his memory. He just remembers finally being able to _move_ after so long being trapped in his healing body and the absolute, unquestionable _need_ to shift shape. He doubts he thought much at all, just went with his instincts. It's a dangerous thing to do, especially when he's been in such a dark frame of mind lately.

Not that he hasn't had a reason. He has every reason to be bitter, angry, hurt and vengeful.

He is a little sorry about his niece. In another lifetime he would have died to protect her. She was never a favorite of his, he used to favor Derek because he was the only nephew he had. He's not sure how he feels since it was basically Derek's fault the fire happened. You could smell crazy on Kate Argent a mile away, so why Derek would be so stupid as to chase her tail he doesn't know. It's not like Derek was unpopular at school. It's not like Derek was a very bright student either, but that is quite another story.

They have come back every year, Derek and Laura, but not for _Peter_. No, they come to mourn and mope and then to leave again. He knows because they'd call and one of his nurses would assure them over the phone that their uncle was still unresponsive. As if visiting is too much of a pain. Or perhaps they'd rather not be reminded too much of what shitty relatives they are to just dump him here in Beacon Hills like so much meat.

He hasn't seen hide nor hair of his nephew yet. The Argents _are_ back in town, though. It's just as well anyway that Derek isn't here, he doesn't want to do anything rash to his nephew. Like he did to Laura. Idiot or not, Derek is all that's left. In another lifetime Peter would have cared more.

In another lifetime he would have never killed to gain Alpha status, even if he had sometimes felt that Talia was too weak he had also loved his sister once. Now all he feels is twisted rage and simmering hatred and the power trip from the Alpha spark.

While Scott works his part-time job Peter follows they boy's best friend Stiles to the forest. It seems more interesting than hanging around outside a veterinary clinic, even with Alan Deaton there to potentially harass. There should be a picture of Stiles in the dictionary next to the article on impulsiveness. Peter doubts the kid has ever thought ahead in her life.

She's muttering to herself about stupid boys losing things they need. Peter suddenly remembers the boy's wheezing breath and deducts he must have been an asthmatic. He won't need that inhaler he lost, the bite has obviously taken, but Stiles is oblivious to the fact that werewolves even exist. He's heard her tell Scott more than once he must have been bitten by a stray dog. Funnily enough she knows there are no wolves in the state. But then her head seems to be full of random information. Has to be, in order to run her mouth around the clock like she does.

She's a good friend, he realizes, doing Scott a favor while he's busy. Peter likes loyalty now more than ever with the Alpha spark giving him nesting instincts and the abandonment still stinging. It's certainly something he's sorely missed lately. He's barely seen his remaining family at all while he was comatose, and he's bitter in a way he assumes most elderly people are. Stiles clearly doesn't abandon people she cares about. It's a point in her favor.

He trails after the girl on stealthy feet. Having the power of an Alpha has made him heal properly – and quickly. He's a little weak still, a little disorientated, but compared to the clumsy and uncoordinated human he's stalking he's as strong as a superhero. He could crush her bones into fragments and make mincemeat of the rest.

Stiles wanders around looking through the area they visited last night, in the teenager's retarded plan to find the other half of Laura's body. She doesn't seem worried about getting lost, but then most children in Beacon Hills soon learn to find their way in the surrounding woods. It's a boring town for kids and teens, it's not much more fun for adults either, but the tranquility and cheap houses lures families to settle here. That boredom also breeds the kind of stupid that goes out to find half a dead body in the woods, in the middle of the night, with a killer on the loose.

Suddenly she spins around and notices him. He startles, but nowhere near as badly as she does. She's nearly tripping over her feet and flailing her arms. A good thing he doesn't want to hurt her or she would be dead already.

“Jesus!” she exclaims and places a hand over her heart. “Shit! You nearly scared the crap out of me, dude.”

“My apologies,” Peter says quietly, not really meaning it. He's not too big on pleasantries at the moment, but he was raised to be polite. What he wants to do is correct her language. He listens to her racing heartbeat, feeling pleased that she's still scared. She should be. Even if he had been human he would have posed a threat to her. He's not a tall man, but he's strong enough to pin her down and do horrible things to her.

She tilts her head, her doe-eyes observing him curiously. “Don't I know you?”

He casually walks closer to her with a small smile on his lips. She couldn't have been very old when the fire took place, ten perhaps, but she's the Sheriff's daughter and he already knows she likes to stick her curious nose where it doesn't belong. Not to mention that the town is kind of small. He nods his head up the hill, where his old home is barely still standing.

“Oh,” she whispers, thankfully needing no further clarification. “I thought only the kids got away.”

“Who says I got away?”

Stiles snaps her fingers in the air rapidly, face triumphant at having figured something out. “ _Peter_. You're Peter Hale. You were in a coma.” She points a finger in his face. He contemplates biting it.

“Clever girl,” he says without inflection. She seems to like being praised, if her body language is any indication. He files that away for later. “And what might your name be?”

“Uh, Stiles. Call me Stiles. Dad made me visit you once when I played with matches.” She's awkwardly fiddling with her sleeves. He notices something sweet in her smell when the wind shifts, but he doesn't really know what it is. That's the problem with heightened senses, they don't come with a manual. He can't say he remembers her, he was never very focused on the world outside his own head while he was in a coma. He does remember a lot of what happened around him, but far from all. “So, did you have surgery for the scars? You look good. I mean, you look better.”

“In a way.” Peter doesn't elaborate, he just stares at her, hoping she'll go. Hoping she doesn't.

Her heartbeat picks up again and Peter figures he must look a little hostile. “So, uh, lemme know if you see an inhaler. It's a plastic thing. White and blue,” she's drawing an inhaler in the air with fast fingers.

Peter nods even though he has zero interest in playing fetch with her like a damned dog. Stiles trots off, away from him and away from the house. She turns and looks back at him after a few steps, then walks back with a purpose, hands rummaging in her pockets. Her jeans are loose on her thin frame, and he can't make out much about her body other than the fact that she's thin and gangly.

“Hey, I know my dad thought the fire was suspicious... maybe you could call him? Just give a statement if you can,” she's holding out a crumpled old receipt with a number scrawled on the back. He decides he should probably talk to Stiles' father. He's probably listed missing by now. It would be annoying if someone came looking.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Stiles waves awkwardly and leaves again.

 

* * *

 

Derek arrives in Beacon Hills as soon as the police can identify Laura. Peter watches him approach Scott, watches him hang out in the burnt out shell of the Hale house instead of finding a more comfortable place to live. Peter understands nostalgia, but he has standards. Clean and comfortable being two of them.

He hadn't expected Derek to show up so soon, but boys are unpredictable creatures, and Derek is still very much a boy.

Clumsy, too.

Peter considers stepping in when Derek, not two days after returning to Beacon Hills, manages to get on the wrong side of the hunters' crusade. In the end, he's not concerned. If Derek and Scott want to play pack and bumble around like idiots, he won't interfere. He has paperwork to fill in and people to talk to anyway. Turns out being in a coma and suddenly waking up has a few issues that needs to be dealt with. Oh, and he's miraculously healed. That poses a few problems until he finds a doctor who takes bribes.

He still keeps an eye on everything, especially where it involves the girl. Between Derek and Allison, Scott seems to spend less time around Stiles. It will only be a matter of time before the hyperactive teen realizes she's not important anymore.

Derek certainly isn't nice to her.

Peter keeps expecting one of them to notice him lurking, but they never do. Stiles is becoming more and more isolated from her friends, separated from the herd. He wonders at that, muses if he should take advantage of the situation.

He never liked them young even if his nesting instincts scream at him that teenagers are very fertile. Stiles is also smart and loyal – qualities that Peter likes and did like before everything went to Hell.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Scott with his brand new friends and pretty girlfriend suddenly doesn't need her. Stiles feels left out, but hey, it's not every day Scott finds the girl of his dreams and a mysterious stranger hellbent on befriending him. Stiles can, sort of, understand that Scott only has so much time on his hands between all the cool new people and his job. And school. Where he fails worse than before.

It still sucks.

She's not sure how she feels when Scott only calls because he needs a ride. He's still Scott and he's still nice, but he's terribly distracted and doesn't notice that she needs him to talk to because Stiles only has one real friend even though she knows everyone in town. It'll pass and they'll be friends again, but Stiles isn't popular like Lydia Martin is and she needs someone on her side.

She is sure how she feels when Allison won't give her the time of day unless Scott is around, and promptly becomes friends with Lydia. She feels like she did when Lydia first started school. Stiles had tried damned hard to become friends with her, but Lydia has to this day never even acknowledged her existence. It looks like Allison has that in common with Lydia. Then again, Stiles has very little in common with other girls. She's not pretty and she's not into the same music or the same movies. She's not fawning over boys and planning her wedding.

She is also sure that Derek, aka Creepy McCreep, and Scott have some kind of secret going that she's not in on. She's broken into Scott's locker twice, thinking it has to be drugs. Drugs make sense. Derek seems that type, what with his gruff threatening personality.

His uncle was kind of scary too.

Stiles looks around her room instead of blankly staring at the computer screen. Her homework was done hours ago. Normally she would hang out with Scott on a Friday night, but he's on a lame date with Allison. She's not sure how to fill the gap.

Out of the blue Derek calls her, just as she's settled on going over to her dad's work just to hang out. There's always more to do at the station during full moons. The deputies are kinda cool too.

“He's not here,” she replies moodily, not bothering with saying her name first. Derek only calls to ask for Scott. Scott who has a tendency to lose his phone and automatically gives people Stiles' number. Like she's his secretary or something. They will have to have a long and serious talk about respect sometime soon.

“I know, I can't find him.”

“Why are you stalking him going on a date?” Stiles confronts. “They're probably necking in a bush.”

“Because he might hurt her.”

“Are you making him do drugs? Is that why he's suddenly better at Lacrosse?” Stiles asks in outrage. She is so turning his ass in. “Even Jackson has noticed something and he's as dense as a toddler.”

“The important thing is that he's gone and people could be in danger,” Derek reminds her tersely.

“I'm calling my dad, and I'm telling him about you,” she threatens.

There's a rustle by her window, then Derek swings into her room like a god damned ninja. It would probably be cool if it wasn't also so frightening. “No, you won't.” He backs her up against a wall. “I know you care about Scott, so that's why you'll shut up about this. We need to find him. He might not be himself right now.”

“You don't scare me,” she hisses.

“Oh, I _don't_? You're all alone Stiles and nobody is coming to look for you in a good while. Now be a good girl and go look for Scott,” Derek hisses back. “He's somewhere in the woods and I can't cover enough ground alone.”

And okay, maybe Derek does scare her, but she still punches the fucker. Threatening her is not okay. She knows her father's not home much compared to most other parents, but people don't get to use that to scare her.

“Yeah, okay, fine. You had better tell me _everything_.”

Of course, Derek just leaves. Stiles nearly howls in frustration at his complete lack of manners, but she does grab her car keys. If Derek is right, she has to find Scott herself so she can rant at his stupid face.

Derek needs to go. She can deal with Allison, but Derek is _out_.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Peter's going to enjoy being pain free and feel the wind in his face during the full moon. He's missed running free, missed the forest and warm blood on his tongue when he kills a herbivore. A deer would be nice, but he'd settle for a hare or even cattle if there are none. Though, sheep taste vile and he has some standards even under a full moon.

He's surprised to see Stiles out in the woods, on the night of the full moon, searching for her friend. Does the girl have absolutely no survival instincts? At all? He ignores her at first, just stalks her for a bit before losing interest entirely. Werewolves really aren't mindless killers. Humans aren't any good to eat.

Most of the night is spent chasing down and eating a deer. It's a more worthwhile pursuit than the tomboy. Tasty too. With a full belly he feels much more at peace.

As morning starts to brighten the sky he runs into Stiles again. It's a coincidence when he spots her, he hasn't caught her scent in a good while. She sees him as well, head on, and freezes for a second before running from what she must perceive as a monster. He bolts after her before he can realize what he's doing. It's instinct to chase.

Instinct to chase a female.

That was what that sweet scent was. She must have been tired after searching all night, because she soon exhausts herself. He regrets the short chase, his mood much lighter that night than during the last time he shifted. Playful. He's eaten, now he wants to play, but there's no pack to interact with so she will do for now. She's not his mate, _she_ died in the fire, but the girl might be fun.

A lone Alpha is still a lone wolf, and Peter doesn't thrive alone.

She's terrified. He buffs her playfully with his head, if he used his hands he would hurt her with the sharp claws. She's trying to hurt him with whatever means she can, but she's not very successful. When she realizes that little fact of life she simply babbles and attempts to get away. He doesn't let her.

Sniffing between her legs he can smell her young pussy. After such a long day it's a ripe smell, but not at all unpleasant to him. He tears her pants off so he can lick at her thighs and stick his nose against her cotton panties. She's struggling harder and screaming, probably from noticing his teeth and claws, but she's weak compared to him and he gets his way.

Gently getting rid of the panties he laps lazily at her smooth pussy. He hasn't had sex in years and years, has been trapped in his healing body and his bitter mind, and her folds taste like freedom and life. She's sobbing and pleading, but he has no ears for it, no interest in her aside from his treat.

When she, no doubt unwillingly, responds to his touch by getting wet he growls happily. He carefully suckles and nips at her swollen folds when he gets bored with just licking. She responds best when he focuses on her clit or sticks his tongue shallowly into her opening. Relatively, anyway, since she's still upset.

He's hard and dripping, and she would be delicious to mount, but he forces himself to resist the urge to breed her. He firmly tells himself she's little more than a pup and that what he's doing is more than bad enough. He'll have a little taste and then leave her. It's morning now, all the other pervs should be tucked away already so she can get home safely.

She runs off as soon as he gives her the chance. She grabs her ruined clothes, but doesn't attempt to put them on.

 

* * *

 

She never reports the incident to the authorities. He had worried about that. She could have altered the story so she wouldn't have sounded unhinged – there are no werewolves, you know – but she keeps quiet. Scott and Derek are told, however, but they don't know it was him.

Derek told her she got away lightly and she rants about it for hours in her room to Scott. She's more upset they're not taking her seriously than anything else. Peter finds it amusing.

He's not so amused when he overhears Scott complain to Derek about using Stiles as bait. Perhaps they have noticed some of his lurking even if they haven't identified him yet? Derek hasn't been to see Peter in the nursing home yet. He doesn't know his uncle is up and walking again, and Stiles hasn't connected all the dots, but Peter feels she might. Her grades are too good for her to be stupid.

The Sheriff's house is quiet when he gets there a few days later. Nice little neighborhood, this. Tidy houses, but nothing fancy.

Peter's _interested_ in her. He shouldn't be, she's not his type. He's never liked kids much, preferring women with curves in the right places. Confident and secure in themselves. But he's latched onto her now. He knows he's not entirely sane, but that also means he can't really find it in himself to care either.

He slinks into her bedroom because the Sheriff is on duty and won't be home for a good while. They'll be undisturbed. He's already forced her once, why stop for permission now? She's sleeping, and when he peels the thick cover off of her she's naked. Stiles sleeps on her belly with her legs in an awkward position, leaving her cunt exposed enough that he can slip his fingers over her smooth folds. Perfect.

He likes how firm her ass looks. There's a little baby fat on her face, but mostly she's sharp bones and muscles from all the running around she does. With a gentle pressure he slides his pointer finger inside her cunt. She's dry and tight, but he's seen the slim dildo in her sock drawer during earlier explorations and he knows this wont hurt her.

After a few minutes of wriggling his finger inside her she's soaking wet and her clit starts to look swollen. He removes his finger and sucks the digit clean, then gently flips her onto her back. He uses both hands to keep her thighs apart, the soft skin there is like silk.

Again he laps and sucks and nibbles at her cunt with his mouth, watching her flat chest rise and fall more rapidly. He doesn't need heightened senses to tell him when she wakes up, the startled scream would tip anyone off. She stills, almost in disbelief, and he responds by sucking harshly on her swollen clit.

When she starts hitting him he lets go of her smooth thighs to grab her thin wrists, growling low in his throat as a warning. “Be still or I'll bite you someplace unpleasant.”

Stiles curses him and babbles at him, but he goes back to licking her cunt without really caring what she's saying. Her cunt is sweet and despite the tears and the curses she's incredibly responsive to every little touch. Her breath hitches and her hips jerk when he focuses on a good spot. It probably isn't nice of him to molest her. In a different lifetime he would have cared.

He inserts his finger again, and she's just as tight as earlier even though it's easier to move inside her. He manages to get two fingers into her, the tight heat is delicious. She must like penetration because Peter feels her orgasm as soon as he moves them a little, her cunt spasming around his fingers. He keeps licking her, and as soon as she relaxes a little he starts fucking her tight channel with his fingers.

The noises have been high since she woke up, but he doesn't hear any neighbors so it's fine. He gives her clit a break and moves up to suckle and bite her nipples. They're the fat, puffy type and he likes that. Even so it's a pity she's so flat. His fingers are still busy inside her cunt.

Her fingers have a death-grip in his hair, and she surprises him by pushing downward. He can't help but chuckle at that. “Want the big bad wolf to eat you?”

“Wolf?” she murmurs.

He shows her his red eyes. Her shocked look stays on her face until he manages to wring another climax out of her.

Once she's relaxed a little he spoons her. She's nervous, so Peter tries to relax her by moving his hands in gentle strokes all over her. She'll learn eventually that he won't hurt her. Not anymore than he already has anyway.

“Why are you doing this?” she bites out.

He doesn't answer, and when she gets feisty again he leaves.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The second time she wakes up because Peter Hale is molesting her she barely reaches consciousness before she's coming, and he just won't give her a break. Her muscles are sore all over from cramping and her vagina is so sensitive it's almost painful to have him touch her.

It's the third time he has his filthy paws all over her body. Once in the woods and twice now in her bedroom. It's impossible to wash the filth off, it's in her head, but it feels like he's left visible slimy marks on her skin. He hasn't tried to do anything other than use his mouth and fingers on her so far. Peter Hale is a total creep and way too old for her. He's dangerous, she can tell from his eyes.

“So good,” she mumbles, because he is. She's never managed to come so often or _so hard_ on her own. He's going to ruin her for all the awkward teenage boys. Good or not, she still doesn't like that her permission has never played a role in this. It's not like she would be hard to convince, no one looks twice at her in school. The boys thinks she's a lesbian because she's so much of a tomboy and the girls look down on her. He's too old for her, but... yeah, if he'd bothered to _ask_. Just as she finishes that though he flashes his demon eyes at her. Danger, right.

“What's your fascination with this?” she asks.

“Not sure,” he smirks. Two of his fingers slide inside her wet hole, until his knuckles press against her. He jiggles them and Stiles buck off the bed. He rubs and rotates his wrist, making them massage her from the inside. They slide out and he slaps her cunt hard a few times, aiming for her clit. She almost manages to get her legs in front of him so she can kick, but he grabs onto them.

Her cunt clenches around nothing. She wants his fingers back inside her, she knows she could come apart on them. “It was you in the woods too,” she challenges. It has to have been him.

Peter grins, and his body changes. Stiles feels much more vulnerable with a hairy beast between her spread thighs, but her cunt still throbs eagerly and the coarse fur on his belly feels strangely erotic against her naked skin. She's waiting for the panic attack, but she's absurdly calm.

She doesn't feel any danger directed at her even though he is undoubtedly a dangerous man. At worst he'll fuck her, but she won't get maimed or killed. She knows that deep down in her belly.

It's not a full on wolf, she notices, more like a beast from the movies. It- _He_ growls. Stiles doesn't know a lot about wolves or dogs, but she blots her neck in submission because she knows she can't win that fight. He wouldn't even react to pepper spray in the forest. Clearly she's not going to win a physical fight in a million years. Her best bet is to play along and enjoy the ride.

He licks her throat and nuzzles her. More of his weight rests on her, pins her down, and she spreads her legs wider without really noticing. Her hips roll to get some friction. Monster or not, her girl parts are throbbing and she wants more stimulations.

Then he's back to normal and his large hands go to her knees to push her legs even further apart.

“You're soaked, little girl,” he leers, looking at her cunt as if it's a treasure chest.

Stiles rolls her hips. She wants him to get her off, like he always does. She's surprised when he steps off the bed and undresses, but he's not bad looking for a guy who's more than twice her age. His cock is hard. Of course it is. It's a fat one, but thankfully not too long. She's not sure just how deep one can go, but she figures it's not a whole lot.

“Oh God,” she groans when he crawls over her and lines up his cock with her soaked hole. She's nervous about it going inside because nothing that thick has ever been in her. He's palming her left breast with one hand, pinching her nipple and kneading. The other he's holding himself up with, the hand right by her head.

Her eyes close because she's expecting pain, but all she feels is a discomfort from her tissues stretching wide to accommodate. There's a full feeling, a feeling like when she first pushed a dildo inside. She grunts when he pushes in deep and keeps going, keeps stretching her too wide. It's weird at first to feel him move that deep inside her, and to listen to the sucking squelch noises her cunt makes around his cock. Sex smells weird. Her clit is so sensitive she's glad he's just occasionally bumping into it as he fucks her.

She's trying her best to relax and allow his thick cock to claim her. She's a little sore already, but it's not bad enough to make her want to stop him. She wraps her legs around him and feels him rest more of his weight on top of her. He slows and roll his hips leisurely in response to her acceptance.

She might regret it, she knows that, but as long as he doesn't hurt her this isn't so bad. She's dirty, and he's raping her, but if she doesn't think about it in those terms it's good to have a man on top. If she lies to herself, she can pretend this is okay.

His leisurely pace feels good, and before that his mouth and fingers felt good, and Stiles relaxes more so that she can feel everything properly.

“That's right, open up and let me in. You won't want that little dildo you hid away after this.”

Stiles bites her lower lip hard.

“You're mine, do you understand?”

She stills beneath him, but then nods. Right there and then it makes perfect sense to agree. He kisses her on the mouth and. She figured at first he just wanted sex, which for a hormonal teenager seemed like an okay deal. Any sex she could get seemed like a good deal, she had no plans on being a virgin for longer than necessary. Especially since he usually gets her off rather spectacularly.

But kissing means more. This kiss means more. Stiles locks her arms around his neck to keep him down, and the next kiss is one she starts. He's stroking and palming her body, kissing and sucking on her skin where he can reach.

Stiles pants and moans when he sets a rougher pace, grunting above her. He's keeping a steady rhythm, and when she feels herself build towards an orgasm she digs her blunt nails into the skin on his back. Even shuddering through an orgasm she feels him fill her with his seed. He keeps lazily thrusting into her as he comes down from his high. She's too sensitive, but it's not like he normally lets her rest.

“Condom,” she mumbles, finally feeling a spike of panic when her brain connects enough dots to realize that being pumped full of semen could get her knocked up. Finally remembering sex ed. She's never bothered with the pill, it seemed like a bad idea to mix hormone treatment with her ADHD.

“You're _mine_ ,” he repeats and grinds his still hard cock against her cervix. It makes him press against her clit too, and she's not sure if pleasure or pain really matter any more. She wants him gone, but she also wants his tongue and cock to force more orgasms out of her body. “Feel that? Feel how deep in I'm soiling you? You'll have a belly full of my offspring. I'll fuck them into you, and you'll take everything I give you. Every inch, sweetheart, every thrust. You will take every drop into your womb.”

“You'd get in trouble.”

Peter grins and gives her a hard thrust. “Oh yeah?”

Stiles laughs, she's too high from the pleasure to fight for real, but a part of her knows she should be crying. A part of her want to become hysterical. “My dad would freak out and shoot you.”

“Because I'm old enough to _be_ your father?” Peter taunts, and her heart skips a beat. “Because I fucked his precious little girl? Because we're not using protection? I don't even care that you're just a kid, I love how tight your cunt is and I want to be the one to completely sully you.”

She's going to come again. Stiles can feel it down to her toes. She does not have daddy issues, or she thought she didn't. It makes a spike of pleasure run through her sore cunt all the same. She's going to come again, and Peter Hale is going to have his wicked way with her body again, and Stiles somehow forgets why that's a bad thing.

Peter sits up a little and grabs her hips in a rough hold. He pulls out and roughly thrusts back inside a few times. Then he does the opposite, going deep before snapping his hips into hers. His cock keeps bottoming out inside her, hitting her cervix painfully and steadily.

It surprises her when her mouth doesn't say “stop” like she wants it to, but “harder” instead. Pain and pleasure do not matter to her. She almost likes that he's punishing her sopping cunt for enjoying this so much. He obliges her, and Stiles grits her teeth until she has to scream, while he speeds up. His cock slides into her through cramping muscles. She's shivering through pleasure even though it feels like she's crying.

She pants for breath when she has screamed up all the air in her lungs. She's more than ready for it to be over.

He comes inside her a second time. He pulls on her hips and holds her tight, holds himself inside. Stiles keeps panting, but relaxes her body until she's a slack lump of flesh. A doll. Her hand twitches.

“There's a good girl. But you can come one more time for me, can't you?”

He pulls his limp cock out.

“No,” Stiles says.

But his fingers rubs her clit hard and unrelenting. He pushes two fingers of his other hand inside while he does it, jiggling and massaging her sore, messy, swollen cunt. She tries to squirm away, but he easily follows.

“Yes, one more. I know you're sore, sweetheart, but you will give me one more.” He keeps touching her until she feels her cunt spasm.

Ruined for awkward teenage boys?

Check.

She doesn't mind the cuddling this time around. She even dozes off in his arms for a little bit, because it's a relief to pass out and not have to pretend those aren't tears on her cheeks.

 

* * *

 

Stiles is unfocused in school that day. She goes to her regular table at lunch, only belatedly remembering that Scott is allowed to sit with the cool kids now. Which means she is, if barely. She's pretty sure they're after something, or have some sort of plot going. She's sitting and she's not moving now. She's still sore from Peter Hale fucking her seven ways from Sunday from late night to early in the morning. She feels thoroughly worked over and she hates having to sit down. The hard chairs are making her focus too much on her swollen parts.

She feels like she must look like a baboon with their swollen and red rumps.

It's quieter at their old table than she remembers, but normally she would be busy talking to Scott. She hasn't talked to Scott all day, but she can see him across the cafeteria, surgically attached to Allison and probably trying to impress Jackson. She snorts. She's seen in mirrors that her eyes are a little red and she feels hollow. She wants to hug Scott and cry. She wants to feel safe again.

Stiles picks at her lunch while she reads the book Peter let her borrow. The little thing was waiting on her desk when she had finished showering so she wouldn't smell like sex during school. So she wouldn't be tempted to go to Melissa McCall and have her do a rape kit. Peter had left a note saying she would need to know about all the supernatural.

It's interesting, despite everything, especially knowing it's all true.

There's enough in it that she now knows how to kill Peter. Not that she wants to. Still, she's not sure she'd take the risk in his shoes. He has forced himself on her and she could very well hold a grudge. She should hold a grudge. There's time to start holding one later, she decides, when she's not feeling so abstract. She's pretty sure that's an emotion.

It takes her the rest of the day to finish the book.

 

* * *

 

She spends the next three days rereading so that she knows for sure it's all memorized, during which she's blissfully unmolested. Scott is nowhere near during this time either. No texts, no nothing. He's not even asking for her notes, nor for a lift.

He's certainly not asking her if she's okay after having a werewolf use her like a fuck toy. Like a ten dollar whore with a heroin addiction to feed. Stiles eventually shrugs it off as Scott being with either Allison or his douche druggie dealer Derek.

Derek.

Stiles pauses in the middle of her homework. Derek _Hale_. If Peter Hale is a werewolf, then Scott is not on drugs, he's been _turned_.

“You son of a _bitch_ ,” she curses, because she suddenly knows Derek is not in any position to turn people. She knows Derek can't be an Alpha. And Scott could probably smell Peter on her even though she showered. If so, Scott sure as shit should have approached her and asked if she was okay.

Her homework is forgotten entirely as she heads over to Peter's apartment. She may have accessed a few things she shouldn't have in order to find him. The trip there is a blur, she's too focused on confronting Peter. She wants to yell and fight, but she's scared he will hit her and kill her dead.

“You turned Scott,” she hisses when he opens the door to let her in. She shoves the book at his chest.

“In my defense, I wasn't thinking clearly at the time,” Peter says calmly.

Stiles growls in frustration. “Do you know what it's like to lose your best friend, just like that? If he bothers to talk to me at all it's just about Allison. I'm happy he found a girlfriend – I am – but does he have to fucking ignore me?”

Does he have to ignore that she got raped?

Peter has closed the door and followed her to the living room, where she only now realizes she's wandered to. She's always been impulsive.

“I know a thing or two about losing people,” he says.

She deflates a bit. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“If anyone should be sorry it's Scott,” Peter says. “This happens all the time, you know? People don't need their friends when they find their first love and then they wake up to the fact that they're alone when it ends.”

“Is he and Derek in trouble with the hunters?” She asks. She chews on her already short nails.

Peter nods slowly. “Some. They don't know their identities just yet.”

“Do we help them?”

Do you care?

“I'm not going to lie, Stiles, I'm not overly fond of Derek right now. It's partially his fault the hunters burned our family. Allison's aunt – Kate – was the mastermind behind that. She got some of the information she needed by seducing Derek.”

“Scott is still my friend and Derek is still your relative,” Stiles says, but she's not sure what she's arguing about. She's never talked to Peter much. She doesn't like Derek. All the Hales can burn all over again.

Peter nods. “True, and if it gets bad enough I will step in. For now they can manage on their own.”

“Sorry I just burst in,” Stiles says. She was taught manners at one point, but she normally doesn't care. Why should she? He doesn't.

Peter smiles. “Your dad's working, isn't he? Want to spend the night?”

“On one condition, you're going to tell me about yourself. You've fucked me, I deserve to know who you are.” Stiles glares at him, and she knows he can tell she's not sure if she wants to call the cops on him or not.

“Fair enough. Can I have a condition?”

Stiles shrugs warily. “What?”

“I want to fuck you in every room.”

She flushes. “Nope, no. Sorry, but you fucking me until I can't sit again will not give me more information about you. I already know you got an A+ in sex ed even though you never learned to ask for _consent_.”

He leers and bows to her. “Certainly, fair lady.”

Her glare has no effect on his mood.

“I have soda in the fridge, this could take a while, baby girl.”

Stiles sits on his couch and waves an impatient hand at him, urging him to start.

“Do you mind if we talk while I cook dinner?”

“Can I stay and eat?”

“Yes.” Peter actually starts to _cook_ dinner and Stiles decides just based on that alone that Peter is awesome. A rapey creep, but an awesome creep. Creepily awesome? Awesomely creepy? In any case his fridge is full of vegetables and meat and fruit.

“How do I start? I was born a werewolf. Never knew anything different, though I learned early on that not everyone was as strong as I was and that I had to be careful with humans.” Peter smirks. “I was always very good at controlling my nature. Better than my sister, but she was more of a natural leader and she became Alpha. I was alright with that, back then.”

Peter chops vegetables while Stiles listens and watches his hands move. He's not flashy like the chefs on TV, but he knows how to handle the knife he's wielding. “She was very diplomatic, very peaceful. Never rushed ahead.”

Stiles steals a raw carrot and munches on it. She feels disconnected from everything, the scene is domestic and not at all like what she always assumed went on between victim and rapist.

“I liked being an uncle, though I'm not much older than Talia's brood. Things were quiet before the Argents showed up. I had a mate. I'd say wife, but we never married in the legal sense. Then the fire happened and you know the rest.”

“Were you different?” Stiles steals another carrot.

“I was certainly more sane,” Peter admits. “What is that you're wearing anyway?”

Stiles looks down on her clothes, or lack thereof. She's wearing a dress. It was her mother's once, but her father gave her all of Claudia's clothes recently so that they wouldn't just gather dust. “Oh. It was mom's. I sometimes wear her clothes at home because they're soft and comfy.”

And about six sizes too big. Claudia was never fat, but she carried a baby once and had some curves on her. Tall, according to dad.

“Comfort?” Peter asks.

Stiles shrugs. She's not about to tell him she needs comfort recently, what with the crazy werewolf and her flaky friend.

Peter starts frying the vegetables in a pan. The harder ones first, then after a while he adds softer ones and lastly he adds thin strips of chicken and fresh noodles. Stiles has seen fresh pasta in the grocery store, but she never buys it. She likes the prices on dried pasta better.

“I'm not wearing anything underneath,” she blurts out in surprise as soon as she realizes. She had just showered, she was just going to do homework and maybe play a game on her computer. She has no panties and no bra.

Peter laughs, then hums.

“That wasn't an invitation,” she mutters.

“Certainly not, especially not from the girl who rubbed up against a fully shifted werewolf,” Peter leers. “Dinner is ready, anyway.”

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles goes by Peter's place on her way home from school. Her dad told her she might wanna hang with Scott since he had to put in a few extra hours at the station.

“I'm crashing here tonight,” she says when he lets her in. She's not bothering with Scott.

Peter hums, a pleased sound if she ever heard one. “I'll get a spare key made.”

Stiles puts her backpack down by his couch. She packed extra clothes this morning and her laptop, so she's all set.

“Let's do something about your wardrobe,” Peter says decisively.

Stiles looks down on her usual outfit of jeans, t-shirt and an unbuttoned shirt.

“Let's get you some girl clothes.” Peter toys with a key ring.

Stiles folds her arms over her chest. “You're paying, and I only promise to wear them once. I'm not changing myself for you. I'm not some bimbo who'll bend over backwards for a little attention.”

“Done,” Peter smirks.

She follows him to his car and lets him drag her around different stores and salespeople with critical eyes. She's never really shopped for girl things since her mother passed away, but she's not ignorant. She can put make up on and paint her nails and look like a girl.

The lingerie store was terrifying, but once they left Stiles had learned she had a different size in bras than she had assumed, and that seamless underwear is God's gift to womankind.

Once they get back she puts on the sluttiest clothes Peter bought her. She promised once and Stiles keeps her promises.

“That looks nice,” Peter says. “Take it off, slowly.”

She does nothing for a long while, standing in his living room like a statue. Then she starts taking the clothes off. He's already taken her, what point is there?

 

* * *

 

In the morning Stiles is surprised to get breakfast and a packed lunch bag. It's domestic. It's creepy, because it hits her harder then, that Peter is old enough to be her father.

“One more thing,” Peter says when she's rinsed her plate. “Are you wearing that?”

“What? Dude, no, this is what I sleep in. I'm not going to school in sweatpants and my dad's old tee.”

“Good,” he says, and he manhandles her until she's got the sweatpants around her knees and the tee pulled up enough to expose her. It's too fast for her to react, and then she's bent over a counter.

Her heartbeat is faster than it should be, and he's scaring her a little. It's a little too dominant, a little too rough when he shoves his cock inside her and pounds her.

“Can't send you off on an empty belly, now can I?”

“Bet you want me to wear a skirt so everyone can see your semen running down my thighs,” Stiles goads him.

Peter hums. “I wonder what daddy would say to that.”

Stiles shudders a little and Peter fucks her harder. She still hasn't forgiven him for anything, but she can admit that Peter Hale knows his stuff. Or, her stuff. The point is, the guy is the best sex toy ever. So maybe Stiles has a kink. It's probably unhealthy, especially because Peter can be a cruel motherfucker and he has a talent for noticing things.

“Are you gonna be late for school, baby girl?” Peter mumbles the question into her ear, nimble fingers finding her clit and rubbing her a little too hard. “Are you gonna disappoint Daddy by not getting perfect grades?”

“Not if you drop me off, daddy,” Stiles whines. She can feel the twitches and spasms that come right before an orgasm.

“Be a good girl, then.”

 

* * *

 

There is a special place in Hell for people like Jackson.

She's got bruises from where Peter grabbed her too hard, and she doesn't appreciate him shoving her and hurting her worse. There may be a girly scream involved when she falls to the floor.

There may be tears, because she's fed up with being weak.

Fed up with the other students in the hallway parting like the red sea and walking past her.

“Oh, come on!” Jackson complains, he's stopped walking and now looks down on her disapprovingly. “It wasn't that hard.”

He's borderline bullied her since they first met, and normally she pretends like nothing he does can hurt her. It's different now that she doesn't have friends, when there's an older guy who she sort of likes but probably is going to scar her for life, when monsters are real and she's just a frail teenage girl.

Lydia and Allison drag Jackson away, and Stiles just can't find any strength to get off the floor.

The bell rings, but she's beyond caring.

“Is the floor that fascinating, Miss Stilinski?” Harris asks.

Stiles takes a deep breath and does something she hasn't done in years – she screams at the top of her lungs to get the frustration and fear and anger out. A music teacher once measured how many decibel she reached and was somewhat impressed.

 

* * *

 

Stiles muses over her life choices while she follows Peter into the woods. They go deep, where no one else is likely to wander. It's a sunny day and the air is warm for the season. In fall that basically just means it's not freezing cold.

She's not worried about being turned. She knows it'll hurt like all flying fuck, and it could even kill her, but she's not worried. She can practically feel it in her bones that it'll be okay. It's going to work out.

“This should be good,” Peter decides. There's some weirdly huge stump off to the right. The leaves on the ground are golden and crunchy.

“Sure, whatever. How do we do this?”

“You, you kinky little slut, will get naked and get onto your hands and knees,” Peter orders. He's in an unsurprisingly good mood. He hadn't expected her to accept his offer, and she has spent the past two days ribbing him for it.

“Doggie style?” Stiles asks with a condescending smirk.

“I'll not be able to hold back,” he warns softly, ignoring the jibe. “I will take you, I will bite you, and if you want to stop it'll be too late.”

Stiles fidgets. She wants Peter to do this, something primal and yearning inside her wants to be _pack_. She wants to belong somewhere, never be left behind, and she wants to be as strong as he is. She's never ever being a victim again, that's for sure.

“It'll hurt, that's what you're saying, right?”

“The bite will hurt badly. The fucking will just be rough.” Peter hesitates. “Well... unless I knot you.”

Stiles blinks. “Knock? No _knot_? You'll... Oh God you'll _knot_ me?” she babbles.

“Might. I don't know, but... I haven't been an Alpha very long. I really don't know. I do know I'm more beast when I shift now.” Peter's nervous.

Stiles hears her mouth repeat “Oh God” over and over, because she can take him, she can, but he's already thick and a fucking knot on top of that will tear her apart. Her brain suddenly supplies her with how much she likes his thick cock, how sore she was after the first time he fucked her cunt. How good that soreness felt after.

Peter smirks when she meets his eyes and he smiles. “Oh, that's my girl,” he nearly purrs.

She undresses until she's only wearing shoes, socks and leg warmers. Peter has dragged a thick quilt with him. It looks old and worn, and she doubts he'll miss it if has to be burnt. She positions herself on it like he told her to. Peter smears lube on and in her. She normally gets plenty wet, but when they talked this over they decided safe was better than sorry.

Peter shifts shape behind her, probably for the drama of it. He's on her and in her so quickly she yelps a little. The hair is new and a little weird. It's coarse and yet soft. She shifts her body a little to give him a better angle, but stills when he snarls and snaps his fangs near her face.

He pounds her steadily, going as deep as her body allows. It hurts to have him bump into her cervix, but he does this a lot even during regular sex and she's come to like that pain. Then he stills. A whine escapes her when she feels herself stretch around the swelling base of his cock. He really has popped a knot and it hurts.

It's far from over. She knows him, she knows what it takes to sate him, and this isn't even the beginning. He bites her shoulder hard enough that she both hears and feels bones break with popping noises. She screams at the top of her lungs from the pain when it hits her a second after the bite. She screams again when he tries to fuck her even though his knot is still swollen and lodged in her. It hurts, nowhere near as bad as her shoulder, but it hurts.

Peter lets go of her shoulder and that hurts too. Blood flows freely when the pressure from his jaws goes away. She cries and screams while his knot shrinks until he can dislodge it and gets off her. He stays in his beast shape, but moves to lick her face and then licks her between her legs. She looks, but all she sees is semen and a long werewolf tongue. She had expected blood.

Her shoulder on the other hand is bleeding plenty, but sluggishly. She probably won't bleed out. Hopefully. Stiles lays down on her uninjured side and tries to stop the heaving sobs. She's too busy suffering to care that Peter has curled up around her. The warmth he radiates makes things slightly better.

She wants her father to come and save her. She wants Peter to shift back so she can convince him to take her away from everything. Then she remembers that she's doing this so that she can save herself and she calms.

Eventually it kicks in. She feels it when it does, her body heats up like it has a fever and then the pain goes away. She heals quickly after that, bones popping into their proper places and flesh knitting itself together until not even a scar remains. She's read about what would happen and Peter has told her, but the raw power flooding her feels like a thousand energy drinks and she opens her mouth to scream, but what comes out is a triumphant howl.

Peter howls too, his voice deeper and his tone more dominant.

She's running more on instinct than logic, which is probably why she crawls up on all fours again. He's on her in a heartbeat, and there's no pain when he fucks her, not until he knots her again. She can take it though, because her brain is tripping on the sudden power rush and her new instincts are screaming how this is something good. Peter is her mate and they need pups to make a pack. Pups or loyal Betas. She wants to approach Scott and Derek, suddenly. Make them submit to her.

Make them _all_ submit.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

He makes Stiles call in sick so that they can make sure she doesn't give herself away when she does go back to school later. She's an Alpha too now, that's a lot more than the average freshly turned werewolf has to deal with.

Peter's glad she agreed to be turned. They could still be “mates” much like you can agree to be in a relationship, but he likes having her as an equal. She's no fragile doll, she's a fighter, and he wouldn't have wanted her any other way.

There is magic and power in being together like this.

And Peter likes power.

He makes her shift, both partially and completely, so that he can tell she's got it all under control. He takes her out to the forest to let her get used to the extra power her body has. The strength, the speed, the sense of smell.

Stiles whoops and cheers when she jumps over a small ravine with meters to spare. She's not the type of girl who needs a man around, but he's glad she will have him regardless. He's worried she will leave, but he likes to think he knows her better than that. She wanted a pack after all. Her howls are clear enough to him.

“This is awesome,” Stiles laughs, eyes bright.

“It has its perks,” Peter says to play it cool.

“So, can I go to school tomorrow?”

“You should be fine,” he admits. “Just don't underestimate how many scents and noises you'll hear. It will be terribly distracting and you are already easily distracted.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, it doesn't help the ADHD any.”

Peter nods with a slight wince. He hadn't considered how being a werewolf would affect her ADHD. “I had thought it would go away.”

“It's my brain, dude. Brains don't go away.”

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

There is a moment where Peter debates stepping in to save Derek and Scott. Chris Argent has caught both the Idiot Omegas in the woods, and things are looking grim. Then it changes, because Derek talks. He snarls about Kate's role in burning down his family and Chris relents a little.

Then Scott pipes up and says he never wanted to be a werewolf, would take a cure if there is one.

It's obvious even to Chris that the two aren't telling lies. Peter sees him release them and listens to them promise to stay on the straight and narrow.

“We're without a pack,” Derek says. “Laura was the one who became Alpha when Kate killed everyone. She's dead and I don't know what happened to the rogue Alpha who bit Scott.”

Chris studies his crossbow while he thinks. “And your uncle?”

“He's in a coma.”

Chris smirks. “No, Derek, he's not.”

Derek frowns. “What?”

“Peter Hale has been up and about for a while. You didn't know?” Chris asks harshly, suspicious of being lied to.

“No,” Derek insists, reeking of guilt. “I haven't gone to see him. I can't. I was... involved with Kate. It's how she got some of the information she needed. He'll know. Peter's smart.”

Chris sighs the type of sigh parents give when they deal with teenagers. “So you had a thing for Kate, and now Scott here has a things for Allison?”

Scott and Derek both wince. Peter laughs out loud, giving himself and Stiles away. They're close, but no one was looking up to the top of the steep hill where they've hidden. Peter jumps down, it's high enough up that a human would break a bone or two.

Stiles stays put. She's cautious of being identified as a werewolf, which pleases Peter. He wants her safe, but if push comes to shove she will fight with him and no one will know what hit them. The element of surprise should never be underestimated.

“Well, dear nephew, you sure have found a kindred spirit, haven't you? And here I thought I'd have to save you from being killed by the big bad hunters.” He looks to Chris. “Hello Chris. Long time no see.”

“Peter,” Chris acknowledges.

Stiles jumps to a tall tree and climbs down. She's fearless even though she only uses as much strength and speed as a human could and Peter grins, eyes focused only on her and how she moves. She drops down from the lowest branch, falling a scant meter and landing softly.

Chris seems impressed, so Peter growls softly in warning.

Derek's eyes go wide. “You -”

“Took a mate, yes,” Peter acknowledges.

“A bit young for you Hale,” Chris warns casually.

Stiles scoffs. “Oh please, like you care. You'd kill me in a heartbeat to get to Peter. Am I old enough to die, huh, Mr Hunter Sir?”

“Of course he cares,” Peter says with a fake smile aimed at Chris, “after all, the hunters came here because the Alpha pack is headed this way.”

“Yes, but there's a slight problem,” Derek points out. “We have three werewolves who aren't in a pack and neither of us is an Alpha.”

“Oh,” Peter says with a hint of fake surprise, “yes, that does complicate matters.”

“I'm cold,” Stiles says.

“I'll take you home. We seem done here anyway,” Peter says and puts an arm around her shoulders.

“Peter,” Chris says, “do you know who the rouge Alpha is?”

“I've been in a coma, I'm afraid I'm not as up-to-date as I used to be,” he evades.

“Someone killed Laura,” Derek says softly.

“So I've heard,” Peter sighs. “Then again, she killed my sister.”

“Mom was as good as dead -” Derek starts.

Peter snorts. “Keep telling yourself that, Derek. An Alpha can bounce back from worse wounds than Talia had.”

“You guys were made for reality shows,” Stiles groans.

 

* * *

 

He rings the doorbell and asks for Stiles, which confuses the Sheriff.

“Stiles,” the old man calls.

Peter smirks behind the Sheriff's back at Stiles and into her wide doe-eyes. “I thought I could buy you dinner,” he says casually, wiping all smugness off his face. “To thank you for last time.”

The Sheriff is about to object. “We were just going to start dinner,” Stiles cuts in quickly, “if you don't mind my dad coming along you'd save us from a bland microwave meal.”

Peter smiles. “I have no problem with that.” He has to meet her father eventually. He smiles at the Sheriff and waits for his permission.

“Alright,” the older man agrees.

He takes them in his car to a restaurant the next town over, chatting with Stiles and her father about nothing important on the way there. Stiles babbles about her games and comic book heroes and her favorite movies. It's friendly and relaxed. He doesn't flirt with her, but he's acting more familiar than he really has a right to. The Sheriff seems oblivious.

Once they're at the restaurant Stiles bullies her father into eating healthy. Peter sides with her, and the Sheriff looks miserable when he realizes he's lost.

“Don't worry, Mr Stilinski, you'll thank her when the grandkids come around and you're healthy enough to play with them,” he says playfully.

Stiles stiffens.

The Sheriff groans. “Did you have to remind me?”

“My apologies,” he says smoothly. “I know when my sister married and had kids our parents were just as appalled. She was just out of high school and I was about eight, it was a mess.”

“It must have been before we moved here,” the Sheriff concludes.

Peter nods, he knows when the Stilinski's arrived in town because he kept track back then as Talia's Beta.

“Well, I'd need to find a guy first,” Stiles shrugs and shoots Peter a warning look.

“After college! Please wait until after college,” her father pleads.

Stiles huffs. “You know I can count right? Mom can't have been old when she had me.”

After three whole minutes of awkward silence Peter claps his hands together. “So, how about we shelve this discussion?”

Both father and daughter nod.

“Good. I got a job at the same firm I used to work for before.”

“That's great!” Stiles jumps off her chair and hugs him. He pats her back, trying to keep all interactions harmless in front of her father. Never mind that he knows how to make her come just by playing with her nipples.

“Thank you, Stiles,” he smiles at her.

“Congratulations,” the Sheriff offers. “So, well on your way back into society?”

He nods. “I expect so.”

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Uncharacteristically, she mixes up the days. She knows her father's workschedule like the back of her hand, the inside of her pocket and the layout of her room. But she fucks up. She needs to keep him away from Peter. Stiles swears when she hears her father pull up on the driveway, but Peter hugs her tighter to his side. “We're just watching a movie,” he reminds her softly.

She nods and sits up a little further away, just in case. Her father isn't stupid.

“Hey dad!” she chirps when the door opens.

“Hey, everything okay?” her father asks as he walks into the room. He frowns at Peter. “Stiles?”

“We're watching a movie, dad.”

“A word,” her father puts his hands on his hips and motions her to follow him into the kitchen with a stiff nod of his head.

She gets up and follows.

“He's too old for you,” her dad says seriously, not knowing Peter could hear him from the end of the block. “Don't make me arrest him for creeping on my underage daughter.”

She could, she realizes. She could just tell the truth and she'd never see him again. “Dad,” she starts to say, but has to stop. She's rolled her dice. Her father can't protect her. Peter would break him like the soft, squishy thing he is. He hasn't been Superman in a long time, her dad. He's old, weak, and she can see and smell it. No, if anyone is going to protect her from Peter, it has to be her. “Look. He lost his family. He doesn't have _anyone_ to spend time with... and Scott... Scott doesn't have time for me. We're _just_ hanging out, dad. Jesus, _Scott's slept in my bed_ and you never cared, trust me a little.” Stiles sighs. “I thought you'd have the night shift and I didn't want to be alone.” Which is true. “There's been all kinds of weird things going on lately and we don't even have a burglar alarm.”

Her father deflates. “I'm sorry kiddo, I know I work a lot.”

“I'm glad you're the Sheriff, dad... I am. Just. Peter won't hurt me.” It's too late for that now. “He's a little weird at times, but he was nearly burned alive.”

She hears Peter move, but doesn't let on. She waves awkwardly when he's in the doorway.

“I could leave if you're uncomfortable with me being close to your daughter,” Peter says. His tone is sincere, but his eyes, oh dear God is she glad her father isn't watching the possessive gaze he's levering on her.

Stiles growls a warning too low for human ears.

Her dad gives a weary sigh. “Alright, alright. Peter, you can stay. Stiles, you tell me the second he's even a millimeter out of line.”

“Sure will,” Stiles beams, having no intentions of doing what she was told.

“There's food in the fridge,” Peter says, an obvious peace offer, “I made dinner earlier.”

Her father nods and then leaves to change and shower. Stiles can practically feel her heart hammer against her ribs. She doesn't want to lose either of them, oddly enough. Peter is, well, Peter. He should be locked up somewhere, with a fucking muzzle, but he's here. In her house. In her life, and no huffing or puffing will make him leave.

Peter goes back to the couch, and Stiles follows him. Her father won't be gone very long, not when he's so worried over her virtue, so she makes sure there's a little distance between them. Not much, but a little. Despite what her father might think she's not a fucking nun, thank you very much.

“Did you have an army in mind when you cooked, Peter?” her father asks from the kitchen some twenty minutes later.

Stiles giggles. “That's what I said.”

Peter smiles sadly. “We were a big family, before... the fire. I'm afraid all my cookbooks are written with that in mind.”

“Heat some for me too!” Stiles shouts before things get more awkward than it already is. “I'm a growing teenager, I need food.” Not to mention a hungry werewolf. That, and Peter makes a mean lasagna. It's probably unhealthy, but her dad loves cheesy-gooey-food and if he can learn to like Peter because he can cook, then healthy diets can wait a few weeks.

She needs them on good terms so that her father can be alive enough to appreciate living past sixty. She harbors no illusion that Peter won't take him out of the equation if he proves too annoying.

Her father can cook soup and heat up microwave meals, and that's about how much cooking Stiles can do as well. This is why they have two microwaves and no fresh food in the fridge.

“Sure,” her father sighs fondly.

Peter kisses her while her father is busy, his hand stroking her lower belly. She knows why he wants her to have an appetite. Stiles has been wondering if maybe she isn't pregnant. She's not having morning sickness or any other obvious signs, but she's craving odd food items and she likes babies a lot more. Perhaps that's just her new weird wolfie senses. She knows for a fact she never hated artificial scents before.

She's not getting pregnant by Peter if she can help it. He smells wrong, of something she has no word for.

“I'm jealous,” her father says from the kitchen, “of you and your mother having bottomless pits for stomachs. You eat like a horse and you're still as skinny as a stick.”

Stiles laughs, which prompts Peter to tickle her.

The microwaves ding within seconds of each other. “Peter, you hungry?” her father asks when he brings the food in.

“I could eat again,” he shrugs. “I'll heat it myself.”

Stiles does grabby hands towards her father and he hands her the bowl. She seriously loves that Peter cooks. She's never had so much homecooked food in her life. Peter will even pack her lunch for school if she sleeps over at his place. Despite everything else, Peter has his good points.

“You'll make a fantastic wife, Peter,” Stiles calls after him.

Peter huffs, but it's in good humor. “If you say so.”

“Stiles,” her father says slowly, as if he's not sure how to breach a subject.

“Mm?” Stiles has her mouth full of lasagna and eloquence is overrated compared to food.

“I've been told people have seen you with Peter.”

She bites her lower lip.

“ _Do_ I need to arrest him?”

“I'd prefer it if you didn't,” She says, not sure where she's gotten the backbone to stare her father down, but she does. It feels right. She's the apex predator, he should not meet her gaze with too much challenge.

And where did that thought come from?

He sighs as if he can't believe this is now his life. “Stiles -”

“Look, I'm all for keeping you in the dark until I'm legal, but if you already know... yeah. Yes. Peter Hale is fucking me.” Raping. Manipulating.

“He's too old!”

“Yep,” Stiles agrees cheerfully. And oh, Hell yes, he is. “I know. He knows that too. And maybe this is all a huge mistake – I'm not saying your concerns aren't valid – maybe I'll regret this.” Maybe I already do. “Right now though? Right now my only regret is that I didn't jump on this sooner.”

“You're _sixteen_!” her dad groans. “Dear God, Stiles!”

“If it's any consolation Peter cooks for me and forces me to do homework.” Stiles shoves a large bite of lasagna into her mouth. “I like that he's older.”

Daddy issues announced to daddy? Check.

“I'm not sure I want to hear this,” her dad mutters around his own lasagna. Which he's thoroughly enjoying, she notices. Peter really is a great cook.

“Dad, listen, if it wasn't such an age gap, would you mind?”

Her dad glares, but doesn't answer.

Peter comes back with a plate of steaming lasagna. “If I may say anything on the topic, Sheriff, -”

“Please don't,” her dad objects. “Just give me some room to think here before I let my gun talk for me.”

Stiles and Peter exchange glances and silently agree to be quiet and watch the movie. The movie she has been paying almost no attention to.

“I'm confused. How did -” Stiles mutters. “Can we watch it from the start?”

“If you want,” Peter says.

“How did you two even meet?” her father mutters.

“In the woods,” Stiles answers. “I was looking for Scott's inhaler.”

“When was this?”

“Uh, after you caught me sneaking around on a crime scene?”

“The night you told me Scott was safe in bed?” her father asks pointedly.

Stiles makes a face. “Uh.”

“Stiles!”

“I didn't want him to get in trouble!” she exclaims. “I just, yeah.”

“You know I don't like it when you lie, Stiles.”

“Sorry, but I'd rather lie than get a friend in trouble.”

The Sheriff looks tired all of a sudden. “I know you mean well, but leaving Scott alone in the woods is not a good call. He could have been attacked by the killer, or a wild animal. You need to think Stiles. He would only have gotten a stern talking to, much like you got. It's not the end of the world to get a scolding.”

Stiles stiffens a little. Scott did get attacked by the killer. She glances over to Peter. His eyes are telling her he's not sorry in the least.

She's... maybe not okay with that, but she's used to the idea that Peter's not exactly sane.

“So, can we watch the movie from the start and have some dessert? I bought healthy ice cream yesterday.”

Her father looks her over like he hasn't seen her in years and only now realized she's almost an adult. Then he looks to Peter. “One wrong move and I'll arrest you, Hale.”

Stiles hugs her father.

“I must be crazy,” he mutters.

“I always wondered where I got that from,” Stiles jokes.

 

* * *

 

Stiles wears nothing under her skirt. She's got thigh-high socks to keep warm, and boots that almost reach her knees. She's in a soft sweater and a thick jacket. Peter got her the outfit, he likes shopping for her. Which is good, because Stiles isn't too fond of shopping.

The cold wind sometimes brushes between her legs and makes her more aware that she has nothing covering her womanhood.

The hood of Peter's car is still warm against her bare ass when he lifts her up unto it, skirt caught in a strong breeze. She wraps her legs around him and pulls his head down for a kiss.

She's not really wet enough when he pushes his thick cock inside, but they've fucked so much that she easily stretches around him. He's not patient or gentle because there's no time. They're in the open and while she likes the thrill she doesn't actually want to get caught.

For one, Peter will get arrested.

Also, she has some shame.

Not much, but it exists.

She smells Derek before she sees him. He keeps a distance, but he's in her line of sight. Peter has noticed as well, and Stiles grins when he gives her a rough thrust and growls at Derek.

When they finish and tidy up a little, Derek comes closer still. “The Alpha Pack is here.”

“Oh my,” Peter mocks, “that is a problem, isn't it?”

“Could you take this seriously?” Derek grits out.

Stiles is a little distracted when Peter's semen starts running down her thighs. “You made me dirty,” she pouts.

Derek has his bitch face firmly in place.

Peter grins. “Derek, dear boy, perhaps you should join us if you're so concerned?”

Stiles makes her eyes flash Alpha red, and Peter does the same. Derek looks disturbed and relieved at the same time, it's an interesting spectacle to watch. On one hand, he surely knows he needs an Alpha to protect him, but on the other he's not in their good graces. Stiles wonders if he's sorry he didn't play nice from the start. Probably not.

“Lick her clean,” Peter says.

She's surprised when Derek goes down on one knee and laps at her closed thighs. Peter holds her left leg up by grabbing under her knee. It spreads her wider and while Derek is nowhere near Peter when it comes to skill the sheer naughtiness of it makes Stiles moan loudly.

“Good boy,” Peter coos. “Get her nice and clean.”

Once she's sufficiently clean Derek rises, quickly steps back and Peter drops her leg.

“Tell Scott we'll protect you from being killed by the Alpha Pack. For now, that's all it is,” Peter tells Derek. “If you idiots use your brains for once we might be willing to accept you both.”

She's not game with that.

Derek is still on her shit list. Scott is too.

 

* * *

 

Having so many predators around flushes all kinds of things out of the woods. Stiles has found a girl in the forest, a feral were. She's kept silent about it. They run together, play and chase and hunt. She stops coming home for a bit. She sleeps in the forest with her new friend, curled up around each other. It's so much easier to exist without the rules of society.

There are so many things Stiles hates about herself and her life.

Peter is one of the things.

She thought she could be okay with him, but he chafes on her.

The feral were shifts back to human when she's seen Stiles do it enough times. Stiles figures the skinny thing has had enough misery if they chose to permanently run from society, so she doesn't try to dig in her past. “Do you want me to call you anything? A name?”

The other girl shrugs.

“It doesn't have to be your real name. I don't care who you were or what you did.”

“Malia.”

“Stiles,” she says automatically, but she figures Malia has heard her mention this at least a hundred times. Stiles is a bit of a babbler.

“Wanna come over to my place? Hot shower and a warm meal? I think you'll fit in my clothes.”

Malia shrugs again.

Stiles holds out a soft flannel shirt she once borrowed from her father, but is now undeniably hers.

“Just don't piss me off, or I'll rip your throat out,” Stiles warns Malia.

Stiles likes how the other girl submits to her – eyes down, obeying commands – but she has no real desire to make that feral edge go. She doesn't want a dog, she wants an equal. Someone who has her back.

And maybe, perhaps, someone to look after.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Like the proper gentleman, Peter invites the Alpha Pack over for a talk when they trespass into his territory. Deucalion wants him and his mate to join, but Peter isn't an idiot and he has the perfect excuse to bow out peacefully.

Stiles is pressed to his back and snarling. He's urged her to act on her instincts for the duration of the meeting. These are strangers in her territory. It should be easy, and it seems like it is. She has been very temperamental lately.

“I'm afraid my mate won't want to be around strangers,” Peter excuses.

Kali looks intrigued. Deucalion and Kali are the only ones who have approached, and they are keeping a respectful enough distance. Ennis is staying at the far end of the room with the two twin boys.

“We could get rid of the Omegas for you,” Deucalion offers.

“Catch 22, I'm afraid,” Peter sighs. “They're trouble, but they're family.”

The blind man nods. “Well, as much as I would love to add a mated couple to my stable... it would be a shame to upset the darling girl.”

Peter knows that's only half of it. Together they're stronger than Deucalion. They have no betas, which means his usual recruitment speech will be useless. Stiles could take Kali alone, and the woman seems to know it.

“Perhaps you would be interested in something else?” Peter asks, smile predatory, but pretending to simply be happy to see another werewolf. “I understand you have a little grudge with Gerard Argent.”

Deucalion smiles back with much the same expression. “That I do.”

“We know Kate Argent have followed you here,” Stiles almost purrs. “If anything were to... _happen_... to her then her daddy will come running. Chris is clearly the black sheep in the family.”

Peter gently strokes Stiles' hair.

“That will cause a vendetta,” Kali muses.

“If we do it, yes,” Peter says.

“My father is the Sheriff here,” Stiles says. “He knows nothing of the supernatural.”

“We'll frame her,” Peter adds. “Thing is, we could use some help since we need something that'll stick in court...”

“I assume you'll want to do it for the fire,” Deucalion concludes. “Still, killing Gerard would make it worth my while.”

“I'm always game to mess with the Argents,” Kali shrugs.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Malia has managed to stay in Stiles' house. Her father seems to buy into the “I ran away from abusive parents” lie they fed him.

“You're not pregnant,” Malia comments. She's on Stiles' bed, reading a book that doesn't hold her interest at all.

Stiles smiles. When she smiles she looks like she lost her mind a while ago and never managed to put the pieces back right. It creeps Malia out sometimes, but she trusts Stiles even so. “I know.”

“You smell pregnant.”

“I know. Not sure why.”

Malia accepts this mystery as a mystery and rolls over on her back. “Peter is a jerk.”

“And a fantastic cook. Decent lay. Overall creep.”

“We could take him.”

“We should take the Alpha Pack first. We might need his help for that.”

“You're tense when he's around,” Malia says, sure Peter is the reason behind Stiles' stiff smiles and haunted eyes. “When it's just us you relax. I'm telling you... we could take him.”

Stiles looks at her, evaluating her, probably judging her sincerity.

“Say you want to play, tie him up, we'll surprise him.”

It sounds simple enough in her head, but Malia is sure Peter is more slippery than a fish.

She's never caught a fish.

“Won't fly,” Stiles says. “But I might have an idea.”

Malia sits up and pays attention. Stiles takes care of her, and she has been alone for so long she doesn't even know what togetherness is anymore. It's not so bad. It feels like a soft nest and warm sunshine and freshly caught food.

Home.

She hasn't been to her own home. She has been gone for too long, it feels strange to even consider it.

She's different.

Stiles is different.

Stiles is the leader.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Malia knocks on the door, and Allison's mother opens.

“Please help,” Malia sobs. She is holding Stiles up, supporting her weight. There's blood on Stiles. On her neck and between her legs, which she considers a nice artistic touch. Nothing to make a girl look more helpless than that.

They're quickly allowed inside. The woman calls for her husband, while Malia and Stiles sink to the floor in the foyer.

“What happened?”

“There was this thing,” Malia sobs, “this... _beast_. It wasn't a costume! It had her... and... and...”

Stiles becomes a dead weight, her eyelids fluttering closed.

Malia screams, hysterical.

Chris makes an appearance, she can hear him, then later Allison comes running down the stairs. Scott is there too, but his approach is more cautious. He can probably hear that Stiles has a steady heartbeat. Malia is breathing rapidly, but Scott can likely smell the lack of panic, and the fake blood.

The front door to the Argent's house is still open, letting in fresh and cool air.

Stiles laughs briefly, a dark chuckle, and opens her eyes.

“Happy Halloween!” she giggles, showing her unnaturally red eyes and letting her claws and fangs show. Her attention zeroes in on Allison. “I see you've met Scott. He used to be my best friend, you know. Then he and Derek Hale used me as live bait to catch an Alpha werewolf. Didn't get eaten, just raped, so it's all good, right Scott?”

Scott looks a little uncertain. “You were fine.”

“Fine? Yes. I wasn't eaten, we established that,” Stiles smiles, a feral, dangerous smile.

Malia growls at the older Argents, who seem to be inching away.

“Relax, sweethearts,” Stiles coos, “she wont bite if you don't.” She rises from the floor and stretches. “I want a bit of help, actually,” she says seriously, closing the white front door with a bang.

“Help?” Allison's father asks.

“The Alpha Pack,” Stiles clarifies, letting her features go human. “And Peter. In return I will bite no one, and since I already have Malia here... that will be easy to follow.”

Malia hugs Stiles from behind and buries her face in the artfully torn clothes.

“You see, we can take them, and we plan to, but it will be so much easier with help. Give you a chance to polish that crossbow of yours...”

“And if we refuse?” Mrs Argent asks calmly. _Ah_. So she's in charge.

“You refuse, I walk away, you get none of the glory. What? Did you think I was going to huff and puff and eat you?” Stiles smirks. “You stink of aconite. I'll stick to deer and rabbits, thanks.”

“Scott and Derek will need an Alpha before they turn feral,” Mr Argent states.

“They used a sixteen year old human girl as bait,” Stiles points out. Hasn't she covered this already? “I think I'll hold a grudge over that little detail.”

“What if we need you for something else?” Mrs Argent asks. She's meeting Stiles' eyes dead on, not afraid, and it itches.

Malia has noticed the challenge.

“Did you know that dogs are wolves bred to be permanent puppies? Barking is a puppy thing. A play thing.”

“Do you have a point?” Mrs Argent asks.

“I do. Puppies. The Bite. Why bite? Why turn someone by biting, when we can breed?” Stiles smirks. “It seems terribly redundant.”

Mrs Argent shrugs.

“Peter wants to breed me. I am done being used by people twice my age,” Stiles says.

“I think we should kill them,” Malia says.

“Now now, let's give them a chance to prove they're good Christians. If they don't hunt us we shouldn't hunt them. Isn't that right?”

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

The crime scene is full of blood and body parts, just like the others. Someone had ripped six people to shreds.

Six.

The last scene he's called to is Peter Hale's apartment, and his relief of not finding a female body is palpable.

Stiles still isn't answering her phone, but at least she's not dead on the floor with her boyfriend.

He makes some excuse and gets into his car to go home.

He probably shouldn't drive, but he manages to get it done.

When he gets home he finds Stiles with her friend Malia in his living room. They're wounded, covered in blood, and he almost calls an ambulance until Stiles growls.

He sees it then – her _claws_ , her _fangs_ , her inhuman _red_ eyes.

“It's okay,” he says, the exact tone he uses when he calms down witnesses and police dogs.

“Nothing has been okay in a long time,” Stiles says, slow and hissing. He remembers that look from interrogations with suspects. People with an anger that burns deep, but who act calm on the surface.

“Well, then we will fix it. I'd offer to fetch a med kit, but, uh...”

Stiles scoffs.

“We heal fast,” Malia says.

“I think I need to hear this from the beginning.”

 

 


End file.
